


As Regularily as Coffee and Tea

by theicescholar



Category: Mob City
Genre: M/M, Tickling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-13
Updated: 2016-02-13
Packaged: 2018-05-20 04:50:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5992231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theicescholar/pseuds/theicescholar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everyone needs a hobby</p>
            </blockquote>





	As Regularily as Coffee and Tea

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fengirl88](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fengirl88/gifts).



> Huge thanks to KuriKoer for beta and advice.

It seems like Sid has got himself a new hobby: catching Ned by surprise. 

Take now for instance: they’re getting personal in Ned’s bed. It’s the first time they’ve actually made it to a bed. Not that Ned has any complaints about the previous times, he just never expected this to continue long enough for them to make it horizontal. 

Sid had started it, something else Ned would have never have predicted. It didn’t have rhyme or reason: the only thing remarkable about the evening was the sweltering heat. 

Ned and Mickey were ironing out the details of a business plan in Mickey’s office. Ben was probably out with a girl, he had plenty. The air conditioning- one of Mickey’s introductions to the Clover- had broken down. It was broiling. 

Ned can’t rightly recall why Sid was in the room but he had little cause to complain: Sid was in shirtsleeves, his cuffs rolled up to reveal sinewy forearms. The hitter had actually loosened his tie, just enough to unbutton the top button. 

Ned had maybe spent a beat too long appreciating the rare glimpse of skin but neither Sid nor Mickey seemed to notice. 

Mickey had been called out of room, something to do with the wiring. 

Ned was editing a letter when he sensed movement. 

Ned looked up and discovered that Sid was standing close. He reached out and gripped Ned’s wrist. Not hard: a loose bracelet of warmth around his wrist, and Sid stroked a slow, deliberate thumb across Ned’s jumping pulse. 

Sid’s dark eyes watching his face. 

Ned swallowed and got himself under control, stared back. When Ned didn’t pull away or protest, Sid’s mouth quirked in a pleased smile. 

Sid stepped away like nothing had happened, casual as you please. Mickey had returned seconds later and they finished working out the details. 

Ned wondered for a moment if the heat had addled Sid’s brain but that didn’t stop him from following Sid to a back room.

Found himself up against the wall. Sid’s mouth on his own, more of a surprise than the hand working his pants open. He was good at it, Ned panting into his mouth, clever fingers playing Ned, muffling his moan against Sid’s neck. 

Ned had returned the favour and they returned to the club. 

Ned had figured that was the end of it: Sid scratching an itch and Ned being a convenient body. But the next time had been on the counter in a dressing room, Sid’s mouth hot and clever, and the time after that Ned found himself spread across Mickey's desk. 

It wasn’t that Ned had never thought about it: Sid’s pointed barbs were a little too knowing to not seem suspect. 

Sid had made it perfectly clear from the get go he didn’t trust Ned, seemingly affronted by the idea that some prissy lawyer had wormed his way into Ben Siegel’s trust. He bristled like an angry dog whenever he felt Ned was stepping on his toes.

All Ned had was curiosity and the occasional idle fantasy: Sid would be rough, uncaring of anyone's pleasure but his own. That wasn’t such a bad thing, the notion of those deadly hands too tight in his hair, bruising at Ned’s hips as Sid took what he wanted from Ned. 

In reality, Sid turned out to be all kinds of surprises: even when Sid was in a hurry he took the time to prepare Ned, pleasant stretch instead of pain, always made sure Ned got off. He likes _kissing_. 

Afterwards Sid’s edges smoothed out a little: he was never in a hurry to get away, and he would gift Ned with a rare, slow smile. 

The hitter’s professional life is soaked in blood, so maybe it’s inevitable that Sid’s terrifying competence translates into precision and consideration in private. 

Sid had made delicious, bitten back sounds and Ned is finally going to learn what kind of sounds Sid makes in guaranteed privacy.

Ned is done with anticipation, and yet here they are, Sid still in his tailored suit.

Ned reaches out to help Sid undress and gets a sardonic look. Sid doesn’t push his hands away, but instead leans in close to lick and nibble at Ned’s left ear.

He caught on quick that biting Ned’s ears made the lawyer’s brain go off the tracks and as much as Ned enjoys it they aren’t going to get anywhere at this rate. 

Ned pulls away, resisting the urge to roll his eyes at Sid’s smirk. 

Ned pauses to take Sid in. He likes the way the older man moves, his animal grace, his deft hands, likes the sinewy muscles in his arms, and the grin Ned gets when Sid returns his gaze. 

Sid neatly drapes his clothing across a chair. He crosses to the bed, naked, and lies down.

Ned takes his time unbuttoning his shirt. 

He’s taken advantage of the invitation to use Ben’s pool, the California sun: making sure he belongs in the land of movie stars and crooks who look like movie stars. Ned knows he looks good but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t appreciate Sid appreciating him: ice cold gaze turned hot. 

Ned sheds the rest of his clothing, takes his time hanging up his suit. He didn’t strictly have to bend over and pick up his socks, but judging by Sid’s smirk, the effort didn’t go unappreciated. 

Ned joins him on the bed, grinning. 

Sid doesn't resist when Ned straddles him. Ned kisses his long neck, his collarbone. Freed of his suit, Sid is precise angles of bone and lean muscle. 

Ned has been wanting to explore bare skin for a while now, tasting the smooth skin, breathing Sid in. Sid sighs a little, bares his long throat, wanting more. It surprises Ned enough that he pulls back a little, meeting Sid's dark eyes. 

"Looking mighty pleased with yourself," Sid remarks, he sounds amused. 

Ned smiles, and it’s sincere: he’s enjoying himself. 

He's heard the story about Sid taking a knife for Ben- quite possibly everyone in L.A. crime circles has heard this story- so he's prepared for the scar that snakes jagged from Sid's throat to his pelvis. 

Sid stripping down to his altogether feels like a small gain. Maybe Sid is just indifferent.

Ned runs the fingers of one hand down Sid's side. He's whipcord lean, slight curve of his ribcage beneath the skin. Ned keeps his touch light, learning what he can touch. Sid runs his fingers over Ned's bare shoulder, down to his shoulder blade, stroking the skin of his back. 

Ned continues his investigation-Sid's belly, lean, the thickening line of hair interrupted with the raised flesh of the old scar- when Sid jerks suddenly, giving something suspiciously close to a yelp.

Ned blinks at him and Sid scowls.

"I'm ticklish," his sounds so mulish that Ned has to hold back a smile.

Ned hums and places both hands palms on Sid’s sides, “Ticklish all over?”

Ned is good at taking calculated risks, but the one he’s contemplating might be the riskiest yet. 

Sid’s eyes narrow. 

“I’m not—" Sid’s words are cut off by surprised laughter when Ned begins to lightly tickle him.

When Sid doesn’t immediately shove him off, Ned does it in earnest. 

Sid’s laughter is loud, starting deep from his chest and getting higher, tighter as he shakes with laughter. 

The toughest son of a bitch Ned has ever met, the man who puts the fear of God into hardened criminals, is currently helpless beneath him, shaking with laughter.  
Ned knocks it off when it starts to turn a little hysterical.

He’s grinning, mischievous, but watching Sid closely. He’d like a little warning if he’s about to take a dirt nap. Sure, Ned is bigger, but there’s no doubt in his mind that Sid could have him on the floor before Ned could say boo. 

Sid is panting, his face flushed. It’s not entirely unlike what he looks like after an orgasm.

“You little brat,” he gasps out, but he doesn’t make any move to shake Ned off, let alone hurt him, and Ned relaxes a little. 

“I oughta turn you over my knee for that,” Sid growls.

Ned bites back a moan at the threat but he can’t hide the shiver it sends through him, the way Sid’s voice sounds while threatening to tan Ned’s hide. Not to mention the way his cock responds.

Sid blinks at him in surprise, glancing down and then meeting Ned’s gaze again.

“Is that so?” his mouth curves into a slow, wicked grin. 

Ned smiles wryly. Figures, the one time he’s got something on Sid. Still. 

He shifts back on his hips and blinks. Feels a lot like an erection pressing against his ass. 

“Is that so?” Ned echoes back, grinning. 

Sid looks him straight in the eye but there’s a flush to his cheeks that Ned can’t recall ever seeing before.

Sid isn’t embarrassed, or at least not enough to pull away or squirm under Ned’s gaze. Heavy odds that Sid likes it. Maybe he’s just waiting to see what Ned will do. There’s an angle here, and if Ned gets it just right they will both get what they want. He needs to go easy: if Sid thinks he’s being played, it’s going to turn ugly.

“Are you ticklish all over?” Ned grins slyly, lightly pressing his fingers against Sid’s ribs. 

Sid’s mouth does something complicated, like he’s pleased and irked at the same time. 

“Do you want me to stop?” Ned asks, making sure there’s no mockery in his face.

“No, I don’t want you stop,” Sid growls. 

A jolt of lust goes through Ned and he bites his lip. It’s more than just the dirty thrill of having Sid beneath him, incapacitated. Sid can probably count on one hand the people he trusts, and to have gained it: that’s real power. 

It doesn’t mean Sid likes him, but it’s still more than fucking, and that’s a step in the right direction. 

“Will you,” Ned lightly grasps Sid’s wrists, and when there’s no resistance, he tilts Sid’s hands palm up, “put your arms up?”

Sid’s dark eyes regard him for a moment. He slides his arms up above his head, mouth quirked in a hazy smile.

Ned swallows. Jesus. 

He tickles Sid’s armpits a bit, testing the pressure. 

“Not that ticklish there,” Sid remarks idly. He smirks at Ned’s exasperation. 

On the other hand, Sid had granted Ned’s request and Ned files that information away for later. 

“Touch my feet and you’re liable to get kicked,” Sid warns mildly. He slides his arms back to his sides.

‘Just have to tie you down,’ Ned thinks. 

“I could sit on your legs,” Ned offers. 

Sid’s eyes flash in an interesting way, but he says, “Maybe another time.”

Ned begins to tickle him again: making the journey from stomach to ribs to armpits. Ned gentles his touch, closer to stroking. He gives Sid a chance to catch his breath and repeats the action, finding a spot on the right hand side of Sid’s ribcage that nearly gets him bucked off. Ned rocks back against him, letting Sid’s cock slide between the cheeks of his bare ass. 

Sid moans. 

Ned bites his lip. Sid looks so good like this: face flushed and sharp eyes a little dazed. Ned is so hard just from watching him. He can feel sweat dripping down his back. He rocks his hips, Sid’s cock rubbing against him, the wetness slicking Ned’s skin. 

Sid arches a little into the pleasure. 

Sid is panting, his grip tightens at Ned’s waist, a low moan from his chest and Ned reckons it’s time to stop. He spreads his thighs and releases Sid’s cock.

Sid bites back a curse, hips still working. 

Ned gives him just long enough to glower before his fingers go to work, he has just the right pressure to make Sid helpless with laughter, his head thrown back, his teeth bared.

Ned sets up a curious feedback loop: the rhythm of tickling Sid and then gentling his touch so Sid can focus on the sensation of his cock rubbing slick and hard against Ned’s ass. 

The tease of Sid rubbing against Ned’s entrance makes Ned shudder. 

“Fuck. Sid,” Ned gasps out.

“You got something to ease the way?” Sid growls, “And not that crap you use on your hair, neither.”

Ned snorts. He’s ready to use cooking oil at this point but there’s no need to tell Sid that.

Ned pulls away reluctantly to retrieve a tin of slick from the night table. 

He wastes no time slicking Sid’s cock up. 

Sid bites his lip, watching Ned’s hand.  
Ned forces himself to take his time slicking himself up. No sense letting Sid know he’s eager. He sinks down on Sid, mouth falling open. 

Sid gives a low moan and it sends a shiver through Ned. Sid’s hands go to his hips.

Ned loves the look on Sid’s face: the way pleasure softens it, Sid’s eyes falling closed just for a moment.

When he opens his eyes he fixes Ned with a challenging look and smirks: _what you got lawyer boy?_

Ned meets Sid’s gaze and smirks. Never let it be said that Ned doesn’t love a challenge. 

He balances a hand on Sid’s chest and begins to work himself up and down on Sid’s cock.

Ned rides him hard. His thighs begin to burn but he doesn’t let up, panting, skin slick with sweat. 

“Fuck,” Ned grits out. So good like this. He’s done with any pretense of composure. If Sid can give up some of his iron control, Ned is allowed to have this. 

“You in a hurry?” Sid growls out, his voice rough.

“Yeah,” Ned doesn’t care how he sounds, watching Sid let himself go like that makes him feel a little wild. 

Sid arches up to meet him, changing the angle and Ned cries out. 

“There, oh fuck,” Ned bites out. 

He’s not even going to have to touch himself at this rate, bearing down hard, wanting Sid to come first. 

Ned curses long and low and comes, spilling on Sid’s chest. 

Sid grips his hips and starts fucking him in earnest, little ‘uh uh uh’ noises escaping Ned’s mouth. 

It’s nearly too much when Sid moans and comes. Ned watches his face, lips parted, his eyes shut to anything but pleasure. 

Ned climbs off of him, Sid’s softening cock slipping from him, messy, pleasantly fucked out. 

“Such a mouth,” Sid mutters but he’s smiling his crooked smile. 

Ned collapses next to Sid. 

Sid seems inclined to remain sprawled lazily across the bed. 

Ned lies down, stretching out a little, running a finger through the sticky mess on Sid’s chest. Sid makes a low noise but doesn’t pull away. There’s a kind satisfaction to this: proof of what has occurred between them, the sharp tang of sweat and sex.

“Could use a shower,” Sid remarks idly. 

Ned hums in reply. He’s not ready to move just yet. 

“Wanna join me?” Sid asks.

Ned blinks, gets his face under control. 

“Been wondering when I’d have you in my shower,” like it was Ned’s game all along. 

Judging by the smirk, Sid isn’t buying it for a second. Sid’s mouth softens into a rare, genuine smile.

Ned could get to enjoy Sid surprising him.


End file.
